by Conn, Claudy
Fae seers had many extraordinary gifts. However, not all Fios had the same gifts. One of her particular gifts was speed. She held the hope that she would hold no interest for him and he would not bother himself to stop her. Wrong.
Evidently, stopping her was what he wanted to do.
She ran into a brick wall that she realized was his chest, bounced off like a rubber ball, and fell backwards so hard she had the wind knocked out of her.
The Royal Fae Prince stared down at her as she lay back against the grass trying to catch her breath and asked, “What, by Danu, are you?”
* * *
Pretend you don’t hear him! Pretend you don’t see him, she told herself. Yuh, duh, he knows you turned when he shouted at you. He knows you ran away from him.
Doesn’t matter—just pretend. She said out loud, “Huh … what did I run into? A tree? I don’t see a tree. Must be just clumsy me, tripping over nothing.” She got to her feet and brushed herself off.
“Don’t be foolish. I know you can see me—my reflection is in your eyes, and your eyes are not quite human,” the Royal Fae scoffed at her. “Now answer my question. Just what are you?”
“Don’t you know? I thought Royal Fae were all-powerful, all-knowing … all-magical. You should know, but if you don’t, well, one up on ya, mister,” said Jazz, starting to walk off.
He reached out and clasped her arm with one hand, gently stopping her. “You are going nowhere until you tell me what you are and why you were about to touch the dolmens. You should not even have been able to see them.”
“Well, there you are—saw them, meant no harm, just curious, so that’s it. You go your way. I’ll go mine.”
“Are you working with Pestale?” He glared at her.
“Don’t know him, so, no, not working with him,” Jazz said, hoping she could find a way to make him let her go. Then he surprised her by bending to put his nose near her ear and taking a long whiff of air. He sucked it in deeply and then moved to repeat the action just under her chin.
She had been so stunned that she had gone rigid, but she couldn’t deny the tingling sensation his nearness elicited from her. She looked up to find his deep russet-gold and alien eyes full with what appeared to be glitter. His gaze was hypnotically difficult to turn away from.
They were Seelie Fae eyes but not coldly calculating as she had been told by her mother, who had been taught this by her mother. His eyes seemed to hold a fire in their depths. She formed a thought in that moment, a silent acknowledgement that what she had been taught might not be right. And that made her frown. She had never looked into the eyes of a Fae. She had never been close enough. Her mother had told her Fae were rigidly disciplined, without souls, without empathy—no heart. She had never doubted her mother, but … this Fae made her wonder.
“You don’t smell of him,” said the Royal Fae. “However, that in itself means little. You have a choice—tell me who and what you are. Tell me your purpose here, or remain with me indefinitely until I can get to the bottom of—”
Suddenly the earth beneath their feet began to rumble.
The air began to swirl with dust and leaves all around them. A crack of thunder, deafeningly loud and with a power of its own, joined with the rumbling earth and created a deafening fissure right where they were standing!
The earth beneath their feet began crumbling away.
“What, by Danu?” the Royal Fae exclaimed and grabbed her, bringing her right up against his hard body.
Swirling winds surrounded them, and Jazz thought a tornado had hit.
Misty atmosphere invaded Jazz’s nostrils as earth fell away from her feet. They were going to be swallowed up by the ravine that was forming.
Was this possible? Did Ireland get earthquakes and tornados?
No time for clear thought as he held her tightly; she relied on him to somehow transport them out of danger. Odd that she should find herself relying on a Fae …
She, however, did not have a choice. He seemed to have her in his arms, and the earth she had just been standing on was no longer there. Ha, no longer there, she said to herself, which meant … oh, yes, it meant he was holding her above the widening crack and together they were floating about in the air.
Sure, why not, Jazz, she said in her mind. It fits with everything else you don’t understand.
Blackness enveloped them, and she found herself holding tight to the Royal Fae with no intention of letting go.
They were falling but not just straight down. They were being battered through what seemed like a wind tunnel, though she couldn’t see it through the blackness—she only felt the stickiness of walls as they bounced from side to side. She hoped he wouldn’t release her, because now he seemed the only thing standing between her and sure death.
He shouted above the roar of the wind, “Don’t let go!”
“Damn straight I won’t! What’s happening?” But she never got her answer, because just then the wind force managed to yank her out of the Seelie prince’s hold and sent her flying off and away.
She couldn’t see through the blackness and felt as though she couldn’t breathe. She struggled not to pass out as her lungs seemed to be collapsing.
Dying? Was she dying? She felt as though she were dying.
And then, just as she began to lose consciousness, she felt strong arms surround her and heard an Irishman’s rough brogue declare, “Well, bless me, where did ye coom from, lass? And not that I be complaining, but whatever is that ye be wearing?”
~ Two ~
JAZZ LOOKED UP into the rugged face of a burly stranger who leered back at her. The second thing she noticed was that he was wearing an old-fashioned style of clothing. His form of dress made him look as though he belonged in the eighteenth century.
She frowned as she tried to take it all in. Where was she?
He shook her and said, “Are ye daft, lass?”
He looked like a blacksmith … how odd, but he had that look about him. They appeared to be standing outside an old-fashioned stable, she thought, so a blacksmith was what he must be. She gave him a tentative smile and said, “Ah … um …”
“Aye, daft it is.” He laughed and gave her rump a hearty pat.
She backed away from him and put up a finger. “Hey!” Deciding it was time to vamoose, she took a quick glance around and saw they were in a village of sorts.
Huh, she thought, it looked like the restoration village she had taken her seniors to just yesterday.
It was no longer afternoon—the sun seemed to be setting—and she glanced down the sandy street wondering how she had gotten there …
A ruckus caught her attention, and she saw a tavern across the sandy avenue. Two men with their arms about each other’s shoulders went in to the cheers of other men.
Where was she? What was this place?
No sense. It made absolutely no sense.
“I don’t know what ye be wearing, but no matter—we’ll soon have it off ye, darlin’ …” said the burly man, who then reached for her top.
She slapped his hand away. She didn’t need to know where she was to know she was in a bit of trouble and needed to get away—and fast.
He laughed. “Frisky lass, aren’t ye? Well, there be no one about to bother or interrupt us, so give over, do,” he said on a slur as he grabbed hold of her and pulled her roughly into his leather-vested chest.
Although Jazz possessed several very different Fios powers, each unique in its own way, super-strength was not amongst them. Even so, she had a few tricks up her sleeve.
She didn’t know where she was, she didn’t know how she got there, but she knew what and who she was. She waited for the opportunity to break away from him.
Thinking perhaps she was hoping for too much, she decided the situation needed a bit of manipulation. She went into action.
Relaxing, she pretended to faint, hoping it would trick him into easing up on his hold.
It worked too well—he almost dropped her.
She
, however, steadied herself and, before he knew what she was doing, stomped heavily with the heel of her booted foot, planted it right smack onto his foot, and dug in.
He yelped and bent over in pain, and she took that opportunity to kick him, a good solid kick right in the shins! He shouted out with rage and agony, and she slammed her now aching foot into his crotch.
That was the final blow. He couldn’t move, but he sure could howl!
She didn’t stick around but zoomed into super speed and was gone in a whirl of dust.
Speed, she had speed but no idea where she was speeding to, and within a short span of time she slammed into a hard, tall body. Very hard, very tall, and also unmoving.
Two hands held her shoulders.
Breathe, she told herself, breathe, as she tried to shake free from the grip that held her in place.
A familiar and, she decided, a very welcome voice said, “What the devil were you thinking?”
* * *
This rebuke incensed her. “What was I thinking? Me? Thinking? Like, there I was, minding my own business when you came along, a Royal Fae out of nowhere, and whisk me off to this.” She waved her arms about. “I don’t know where this is, but I know that I didn’t ask to come here, so take me back!” Her fists went to her hips, and she glared at the Royal Seelie.
He grinned, and this incensed her further.
“Are you laughing?” she demanded. “Laughing—now? Why are you laughing? Oh, that … that just beats—wait.” She shook her head and then put one finger up high and in his face. “Never mind. Just tell me, where the frig are we?”
The grin vanished, and he looked around with a frown. “As far as I can fathom, we are in the past.”
“In the past?” Her mouth opened and closed, and she then demanded, “Are you frigging kidding me?”
“No, not kidding you, frigging or otherwise—what is this frigging? Humans have so many idiomatic expressions it is difficult to know all of them,” he answered, frowning still at her.
“Never mind that now. Tell me that you are mistaking a restoration village for being in the past. That is what you meant by the past, right? It must be a restoration village, I know, because what other explanation is there?” She eyed him. “That smithy must have gotten a little drunk and forgot himself … that’s right, that is what it is, because right here in Killarney we have a restoration village. And there is a cafeteria where we can go and get something to eat. I think I would like that now. Tea … yes, with pastry … lots of pastries …” She glared at him. “So, are you going to take me to the cafeteria and feed me? It is the least you can do.”
When he didn’t answer and only regarded her as though she were insane, she said, “Why are you looking at me like that? I am not the one who thought they were in the past simply because we got spit out of the tornado into a restoration village.”
“We are not in a restoration village. We are in the past,” he answered her slowly.
“Nope, can’t be. Stephan Hawking does not think it is truly possible—because of some curve or other—to time travel, and he, let me tell you, knows what he is talking about. I should know—I’ve tried reading his chapter on time travel.” She was rambling, she knew, but couldn’t stop herself.
“By all that is earth, wind, and fire, stop chattering at me and let me think!” He sighed. “Well, at least Shee Willow and Shayne will be able to report what has happened to our queen. I got a message off to them as soon as I found the dolmens and was waiting on them when you appeared out of nowhere.”
“Not out of nowhere. I was hiking—it is a National Park—and I was hiking, minding my own business, doing what is expected when on a trail … hiking, enjoying the sights—”
He cut her off. “Stop going on and on about it.” He considered her and shook his head. “Mad, the experience has made you quite mad.”
“Damn straight it has. How would you like to be hiking, minding your own business, and accosted by a Royal Fae? Mad? I am furious.”
He chuckled. “That is not exactly what I meant, but indeed, from your point of view, matters are quite intolerable.” He sighed heavily. “I wish for your sake that we were in one of your human historical villages, but we are in the past. When I inspected the village earlier, before I located you, I discovered a newspaper that denotes the fact that we are in the year of 1816, in the month of August.”
“Noooo, didn’t you hear what I told you about Stephen Hawking? Ha, in the past, not likely.”
“I did hear what you told me, and your human, Stephen Hawking, is quite right. However, Pestale has been obviously playing with Dark Magic, and Dark Magic can do what science cannot.”
“What are you saying?” She took a step away from him, not wanting to accept what he was telling her. Maybe she had fallen and clunked her head? Maybe that was it, and she would wake up in a hospital?
“The Dark Prince must have opened a portal, no doubt attempting to get to the Human Realm, but was sucked into the past instead. Something went wrong.”
“You think?” She pulled a face at him and then asked, “He opened? Who—he? Sucked in? Dark Prince? You mean like in the devil, Dark Prince … or someone else?” She shook her head. “Not liking the sound of this, but never mind all that. How do we get sucked back to the present?”
He eyed her ruefully for a long moment and said, “To answer your questions, no, not the devil humans refer to. He is the Dark Prince Pestale—an Unseelie Royal. He has done this before, gone to the past before, but on purpose. This time, I rather think he did not mean for this to happen. It was a completely clumsy effort, not like him at all.” He shrugged. “No doubt, he has been affected by the waters of the Cauldron. As to getting back just yet, we don’t.” He frowned and reached for her chin. “You are bruised.”
“Not sure I understand any of this,” she said, pulling away from him. “Maybe you are the one who is … mad?”
“Were you bruised in the time portal?” He wasn’t letting go.
She sighed and grimaced. “That big oaf put his grimy, rough hands on my face when he tried to force a kiss out of me.”
The Fae Prince’s face suddenly took on an ominous expression, and he said on a low growl, “I shall go teach him some manners! Such behavior cannot be tolerated.”
She laughed, but when she saw he was serious she shook her head. “I doubt anyone could teach that Neanderthal manners. But never mind him. I’m okay, and we need to keep a low profile and find a way home. Home—let’s just concentrate on getting home.” A tentative smile curved her lips, and she offered, “Thank you, though, for your concern.”
She watched him as he looked out into the distance and said with an off-handed wave of his big, strong hand, “Of course I am concerned. You are here in part because I failed to stop the Dark Prince. Thus, I must consider you a lesser being under my protection.”
“A lesser being?” She hauled off, smacked his chest, and then resisted the need to cry out in pain from the impact. She said with a hiss, “I’ll show you lesser being.” It occurred to her, though, that however much she did not like hearing him call her that, it was in fact precisely what she was.
“Why do you attack me? It is, of course, a waste of time, but why do you do it?”
“Did no one ever teach you about manners? You don’t insult someone by calling them a lesser being!”
“But it is the truth,” he said, looking at her with puzzlement.
“Truth? Whether it is truth or not, it is not nice, and it wasn’t necessary. You are a Royal, yes, but you are also, arrogant and as cold-blooded as a … shark. How do you like that?”
“But you are not being factual. I am not cold-blooded.” He suddenly moved even closer to her. “I am, in fact, quite warm-blooded.”
If she hadn’t been so annoyed with him, she might have admitted he had just sent chills up her spine. However, she was annoyed with him and not admitting anything. She wagged a finger and said, “You go about your business because it is your busine
ss, regardless of the consequences to others trapped by your … your … whatever it is your business is. You haven’t got a clue how to conduct yourself when in the company of those who aren’t Fae—Royal or otherwise. That is cold-blooded, that is thoughtless, and, and … never mind!” She threw up her hands.
He eyed her for a long moment and then offered, “You are very emotional, but perhaps we can get past that and begin again. Before we proceed, you may tell me your name.”
She glared at him. She realized, however, she was in a precarious situation and would need to rely on him to get her out. He didn’t seem intent on doing any of the things Fios had been taught to fear. He didn’t, in fact, seem to wish to scurry her off to Faery as she had been raised to believe. Thus, she said, “Jazmine Decker, and I am not emotional! I have just been, according to you, shoved into the past—the year 1816 in fact. I have been accosted by a brute of a smithy and told we are stuck here in the past. What do you expect from me, hearts and roses?”
He eyed her thoughtfully. “I am not really certain what to expect from you, as you are a human female, and why should I expect hearts and roses? It seems a very odd thing to expect, but back to the human thing, because I find that you are not quite human—are you?”
“Oooh!” She felt the urge to punch him again but calmed herself. “Okay, give me something to call you.”
“Something? It is more than something,” he said, his chin up and one well-shaped eyebrow arched. “I am Trevor, Prince of Lugh.” However, after a brief pause he made the mistake of adding, “And, yes, you are emotional. In fact, I find you more so than some of the humans I have interacted with recently. Although Red says humans can be quite practical and logical, I have not yet witnessed it.”
“Oooh,” she seethed again. She glared at him and then once again quieted herself as curiosity got the better of her. She inquired, “Who is Red, another one of your cold-blooded Royals?”
